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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25310737">You Construst Intricate Rituals to Give Your Bros Handies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheniavenesia/pseuds/atheniavenesia'>atheniavenesia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Background Poly, Balthus Totally Isn't Gay, Crack Treated Seriously, He's Just Always Thinking About Dicks and the Men They're Attached to, M/M, Muscles, Penis Measuring, Premature Ejaculation, Size Kink, byleth voice: please do not call me bro with your penis in my hand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:07:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25310737</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheniavenesia/pseuds/atheniavenesia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Byleth has, in his thirty years of life, never measured his dick. This is, of course, a tragedy. He's missing out on a fundamental part of the human male experience. It has to be that, right? Otherwise Balthus is just being a weirdo.</p><p>Impossible.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Balthazar von Adalbrecht | Balthus von Albrecht/My Unit | Byleth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Construst Intricate Rituals to Give Your Bros Handies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I really enjoyed writing this! It’s a story that takes its stupidity very seriously and I’ve always had a soft spot for stories like this. Having said that, however, there is some stuff that I recognize could make some people uncomfortable, especially considering the crack in this crackfic is all setting and no narrative.<br/>No characters individual backstories or trauma are given any kind of respect. If I could trivialize it, I did. In addition, there’s a scene where Byleth exposes himself to another character unexpectedly. This is a humorous moment, but I do recognize that it could be triggering to some people. Ultimately, this is a fictional story that I’m in complete control of, so I don’t have any compunctions about morally dubious actions resulting in positive outcomes. It’s funny because all the characters involved find it funny. This is not an action I endorse in reality.<br/>Enjoy !</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Byleth is weird. He’s, like, aware of that. The small voice in his head that tells people that it’s strange to interrupt a conversation with a colleague to run across the teachers’ lounge and drink an entire can of Mountain Dew in three gulps is conspicuously absent in him.</p><p>He makes do, though. It helps that Garreg Mach isn’t exactly a bastion of normalcy on its best day. Sure, he might not be able to emote, but he’s also never gotten so drunk that he made his students fill out worksheets describing his most marriageable qualities like <em>some</em> certain Manuelas.</p><p>It gives him some leeway. As long as the worst of his quirks are limited to obsessively returning things his students leave in his class, he gets to keep his mantle as the most beloved professor.</p><p>However, that’s not always the case. It happens, of course, most often in the Golden Deer class. There’s something about evening classes that always bring out the worst in people.</p><p>The. Worst.</p><p>The students in this class are missing the emotional repression that keeps the Blue Lions under control. For the most part, at least. It also doesn’t help that there’s nobody capable of inspiring the same amount of mortal terror as Edelgard does to her Black Eagles. In fact, most of the people in Golden Deer take it as a point of pride that it takes Byleth the first half of class to get everybody sitting down.</p><p>Some people, Byleth thinks, shouldn’t be forced to learn communication and debate strategies to get bachelor’s degrees. On the more rambunctious days, he thinks that people shouldn’t be forced to teach it.</p><p>He’s got a PhD in comparative western religion. What, he questions in his more existential moments, has led him to teaching an entry level course in a private Church of Seiros university? He should have just followed in his father’s footsteps and burned his dorm room down halfway through his doctorate program.</p><p>He should call him, he thinks.</p><p>Later, though, because right now, freedom is on the horizon. He’s interviewing TAs. He’s going to be free of this burden. It’s enough to make him cry. Or maybe just smile a little bit. It’s all pretty much the same to him.</p><p>“What makes you want to TA for the Blue Lions, Ms…”</p><p>The girl across from him sinks lower into her seat. She pops her gum.</p><p>“No last name,” she answers. “Just Hapi.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Yeah, I got sort of burned out on having a last name after I got kidnapped by the government to provide logistics work for illegal paramilitary groups operating out of Fhirdiad. Ended up getting an honorary B.S, though. That’s cool, I guess.”</p><p>“Interesting story.”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess.”</p><p>“Should you have told me that? Am I implicated in something now?”</p><p>She shrugs. “You gonna rat?”</p><p>“No. I’m—no.”</p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>He shuffles the papers on his desk. “For liability purposes, I’m going to assume everything you told me was a joke.”</p><p>“Wasn’t very funny, chatterbox.”</p><p>“I get that a lot. If you would, please answer my earlier question.”</p><p>“Whatever. I guess I want money. Doesn’t everybody?”</p><p>“I have been advised by the dean to not share my opinions on capitalism,” Byleth answers.</p><p>“Hell yeah,” Hapi says. “Stick it to the man.”</p><p>“I am, unfortunately, the man.” Byleth considers her for a long moment. “Now you are, too. Congratulations on your new TA position.”</p><p>“Wait, really?” she asks. “You suck at these interviews.”</p><p>He stands and holds a hand out to shake. “You’ll understand why soon. You start Monday.”</p><p>—</p><p>“I’ve heard a lot about your work on epidemiology, Ms. Nuvelle. Very groundbreaking stuff, I understand.”</p><p>The woman across from him slams her hands down onto the armrests of her chair.</p><p>“You would do well to refer to me by my full name, Professor Eisner! Constance von Nuvelle is the latest in a long line of revolutionary minds, and it’s only correct that you pay me and my family the respect we’re due!”</p><p>“I apologize, I suppose.”</p><p>“So you’re not entirely devoid of sense, it seems,” she says. She leans back in her chair and tents her fingers. “Now, explain to me why I should deign to assist you in your work here.”</p><p>“I’m sorry?”</p><p>She snaps her fingers at him. “I was under the impression that you were an academic of no small repute. I see that reputation was unearned.”</p><p>“I’m just unclear as to how you came to be interviewing me.”</p><p>“A woman of my skill is incredibly in demand. Why it’s astonishing I even managed to make time for this meeting at all.”</p><p>“Is that why you’re applying for one of the least requested assistant positions on campus?”</p><p>For the first time, the woman across from him falters. A shadow seems to crawl across her face.</p><p>“So even you can see beneath the facade of my confidence… what a hopeless venture this has been.”</p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>“Of course not,” is the answer.</p><p>“I’m not sure what I expected,” Byleth admits.</p><p>“I’ll leave now. I apologize for wasting your time,” Constance offers.</p><p>She’s actually already begun the process of slinking out of her chair before Byleth gathers himself enough to stop her. He almost doesn’t want to. Clearly she has a lot of work she needs to do on herself before she’s ready to take responsibility for a class of young adults. Still, he’s never claimed to be a particularly considerate person.</p><p>“Wait one moment, please,” he says. “Do you have the mental stability necessary for this job?”</p><p>“I”m not sure what you mean,” she offers. “I don’t have anything necessary for this job. I’m a failure in every sense of the word.”</p><p>“So you’ve mentioned. Listen, it’s not too hard, and I can see here in the application that you mentioned you’ve fallen on some difficult times. If you can manage it, I’m sure the stipend will be helpful.”</p><p>“My only merit is to be pity? Fitting, for a wretch like myself.”</p><p>“Is that a no?”</p><p>She physically shakes her head. Afterward, her gaze is piercing once more.</p><p>“I see you couldn’t resist the opportunity to have a world-class intellect such as myself working with you! I don’t blame you. I expect to have your itinerary ready for review by the end of the day. You have my email, I trust?”</p><p>“I do, but I’m almost positive that I don’t need to clear my lesson plans with you.”</p><p>She scoffs. “As I said: you have until the end of the day. I’ll have it back to you by five PM tomorrow.”</p><p>She leaves with the sharp clack of heels on tile. He wonders how she’s going to get along with Hubert. Maybe he should send her his itinerary.</p><p>—</p><p>“Yuri, I have to admit you’ve chosen quite a varied selection of candidates.”</p><p>Byleth can hear the sound of Yuri tapping his nails on the other end of the line.</p><p>“No idea what you mean,” comes the answer.</p><p>He sounds bored with the conversation. To be fair, he always sounds bored. If Byleth spends too long thinking about how Yuri got the position of student-faculty liaison, he starts to get headaches. He very purposefully ignores it.</p><p>“I think Ms. Nuvelle had a psychotic break during the interview.”</p><p>There’s a sigh.</p><p>“Probably because you called her Ms. Nuvelle. I told you they were difficult, didn’t I?”</p><p>“Yes,” Byleth allows, “but Hapi mentioned something about extrajudcial—”</p><p>“You’re not going to want to finish that sentence on an unsecured line.”</p><p>Byleth closes his eyes and counts to ten.</p><p>“Regardless of that, I don’t think your final candidate is coming. It’s been thirty minutes.”</p><p>He can hear Yuri roll his eyes.</p><p>“He’s probably flirting with some senior citizen.”</p><p>“Is that a euphemism I’m unaware of?” Byleth asks.</p><p>“It is not.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>The silence continues on. Even Byleth, unaware of social conventions as he is, is starting to realize this is going on too long. Maybe this is how Yuri got the job, he realizes. Very interesting technique.</p><p>“I just texted him,” Yuri says suddenly. “He’ll be there in five minutes.”</p><p>“And you’re sure?”</p><p>“If he values his continued existence, he’ll be there.”</p><p>There’s a click as the line disconnects. The farewell would be abrupt, but Byleth happens to know for a fact that Yuri only takes calls on his office phone so he can slam the receiver down instead of saying goodbye. He’s gone through so many phones that there’s a clause in his contract that says he’s responsible for all telephone-related damages incurred during his shifts. It hasn’t stopped him.</p><p>He goes through his files. He’s got one interview left. Balthus von Albrecht applying for the position of TA to the Golden Deer class. This interview is important. The Golden Deer are ruthless. If he sends somebody showing weakness into that den of wolves, he’s asking for a death on his conscience.</p><p>There’s a banging on his office door. It is, if he’s being generous, something approaching knocking. This doesn’t bode well.</p><p>“Come in,” he calls.</p><p>A man appears in the doorway. He has to crouch to enter. He’s — impossibly — taller than even Raphael. He’s only a fraction of a breath shorter than Dedue.</p><p><em>Dedue</em>.</p><p>The sheer number of students at this academy over six feet tall is beginning to feel like a personal attack. He has more pressing issues than his continued torment of being forced to look up at ninety degree angles, though, because this man is walking bare-chested into an interview. Byleth makes a note on his file that puts him firmly in the ‘maybe’ category.</p><p>“Hello, Mr. Albrecht,” he greets.</p><p>He stands to offer a hand. Balthus takes it and squeezes hard enough that Byleth’s fingers go cold from the lack of circulation. If he wasn’t used to Dimitri’s crushing grip, he might even have called it unpleasant. Now it’s something of a reprieve from a different, entirely inhuman grip strength.</p><p>“How’s it hanging, Professor?”</p><p>Byleth ends the handshake.</p><p>“’How’s it hanging’?” Byleth tilts his head. “My… penis?”</p><p>Balthus stares at him.</p><p>“It’s not,” he begins, “I mean, yeah, I guess. It’s weird when you say it like that, though.”</p><p>“Oh,” Byleth answers. “My penis isn’t hanging at all. I’m wearing briefs.”</p><p>Balthus’ stare becomes, somehow, more incredulous.</p><p>“You’re not supposed to answer it like that. It means, like, ‘how are you.’ You just say ‘pretty good,’ or something.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>Byleth takes a seat. He gestures at the seat opposite him. He gets the strangest feeling that he’s made some mistake here that he’s going to complain about to his cat later. For now, though, he’s dedicating all of his brainpower to keeping from turning off all the lights in the room and sitting under his desk for a few hours. Balthus sits.</p><p>“Did you want me to answer the same question?” Balthus asks. “For, like, fairness?”</p><p>Byleth contemplates it.</p><p>“I believe asking after the status of a students genitalia is sexual harassment,” he finally says after three minutes of silent contemplation.</p><p>“Well, I’m offering, pal.”</p><p>“I believe that’s also sexual harassment.”</p><p>The room is silent. Balthus looks… uncomfortable. Byleth’s definitely done something wrong. Oh, well.</p><p>“What’s your field of study?” Byleth asks because he remembers small talk is supposed to be good at breaking tension.</p><p>“Kinesiology,” is the answer. “Kind of an obvious choice for somebody like me, I know.”</p><p>Byleth looks him up and down.</p><p>“You certainly have very well-defined musculature.”</p><p>Balthus flexes. It should be less impressive because he doesn’t stand to do it, but it’s really quite incredible. Byleth has a strange feeling in his stomach.</p><p>“Tell me about it,” Balthus brags. “Go ahead and touch. I know you want to.”</p><p>Byleth makes a non-committal noise.</p><p>“I don’t think I will, but I appreciate the offer.”</p><p>Balthus shrugs.</p><p>“Your loss. If you change your mind, I’m always in the campus gym. Do a lot of squats in my running shorts. You’re welcome to come visit. Also, you’re welcome for the mental image.”</p><p>“Again, I appreciate the offer. I will probably fail to take you up on it. Is it alright with you if we get back to the topic of this meeting?”</p><p>Balthus grins.</p><p>“Hell yeah, let’s get down to business,” he says. “Let me tell you why you need somebody like me working for you.”</p><p>Byleth shakes his head.</p><p>“You would be working for the school. The only purpose of this meeting is judging your compatibility with me and the class.”</p><p>“Details, details.”</p><p>“I suppose they are.”</p><p>Balthus’ grin gets bigger. A lock of his hair, held back by what appears to be gel and fervent hope, falls forward into his face. It gives him a rakish appearance. Byleth is impressed to see somebody that the word ‘rakish’ applies to in the contemporary age.</p><p>“Listen, I was made to keep unruly students in line. I mean, look at me! Who’d want to disobey such a fine specimen of masculinity?”</p><p>If he’s being honest, everybody except Ignatz. Maybe Marianne, but just the other day he’d caught her smuggling a ball python into class in her purse, so she’s not a given. However, he’s almost done with these interviews. And if weren’t almost done with these interviews — like if, for example, he were to scare Balthus away by mentioning exactly the war zone he’s walking into — then he’d have to do them again. Even he can admit to mortal terror at considering this batch of applicants being considered the best available.</p><p>“I suppose you have a point. When would you be available to start?”</p><p>Balthus pumps his fist in the air.</p><p>“I could start right now, if you need it!”</p><p>It’s tempting. He’s got an inbox full of homework he’s only half-sure is going to be comprehensible. Still.</p><p>“No, but I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Byleth says. “I don’t see the class again until Tuesday, so that would be the most likely starting date.”</p><p>Balthus pumps his fist again. The motion looks practiced. Byleth stands and offers his hand. He’s only half-surprised when he’s pulled into a hug. There is, he thinks with his nose pressed against his new TA’s clavicle, an awful lot of chest in his face. It’s not entirely unpleasant.</p><p>The meetings of his students and the TAs are going to be interesting.</p><p>—</p><p>The meetings go like this.</p><p>Constance and Ferdinand get on terrifyingly well. Nearly the entirely of the class is spent on them decrying the accessibility of honors classes to the student body at large. It is, Byleth thinks, something of a miracle that Dorothea doesn’t eviscerate the both of them where they stand. In the short time he’s known her, she’s proven to have something of a complex about elitism. And Ferdinand. Byleth makes a note on the attendance sheet that those things might be connected.</p><p>Edelgard, surprising absolutely nobody, takes the news in stride. It helps, of course, that the two of them have some ill-defined family connection. They’re… cousins? Neighbors? Whatever the truth of the matter, then have the distant and vaguely antagonistic relationship all old-money families seem to have with each other.</p><p>That aside, it’s a positive experience. Bernadetta makes it through class without accusing somebody of conspiring to kill her. Caspar doesn’t disregard the podiums to try to bodily injure his debate partner. A very positive experience.</p><p>He will say, though, that Constance has another one of her episodes while grading Petra’s midterm and spends twenty minutes in the supply closet decrying her own ‘haggard lack of mastery of her language when compared to such a shining example of intelligence.’ All in all, it still manages to be one of the easiest days with the Black Eagles to date.</p><p>—</p><p>Hapi’s introduction to Blue Lions is less smooth. She starts by accusing Dimitri of being the inheritor of dynastic wealth accumulated via the exploitation of the disenfranchised. Byleth thinks it might be true, but he still has to ask her to stop.</p><p>It proves to be an entirely unnecessary step when Dimitri goes catatonic with shame and is bridal carried out of the room by Dedue. Even Hapi seems to feel guilty about that. Fortunately, the mood of the room is salvaged by Felix’s wild cheering at seeing Dimitri put in his place.</p><p>“I’d be careful laughing at that, Fraldarius,” is all Hapi says.</p><p>That, it seems, is the end of that. Eventually Dimitri is brought back into the room with a smoothie in clear violation of the campus-wide ‘no food or drink’ policy. Byleth lets it slide. He can’t tell whether or not Hapi follows his lead out of guilt or a desire to rebel against the rule of law.</p><p>She makes amends to the class for their rocky start by refusing to grade any of the homework done the previous weekend and giving everybody perfect scores while staring directly at Byleth. That’s also met by a cheer, this time by Sylvain.</p><p>Annette does, however, seem a bit put out by not earning the grade. She corners Byleth after class and asks him to give her the grade he thinks she deserves. He’s of the opinion that she deserves to be top of the class for managing to keep Mercedes from dragging her bodily out of the room before she can endanger everybody’s suddenly-perfect GPA.</p><p>He promises to do just that and waits for her to leave the room before closing his gradebook without doing anything. He thinks, sometimes, that he’d rather fall off a cliff and be in a coma for five years than grade anything, ever. It is, he admits, very specific.</p><p>—</p><p>Byleth wants to be surprised by how poorly things go the Golden Deer class. He really, really does. If he could muster up some sort of disappointment at the class, he’d be euphoric. He might even manage one of his twice-yearly smiles. However, it isn’t to be.</p><p>It starts off bad. Worse, somehow, than the Blue Lions. He’s letting Balthus get his bearings by taking attendance. It’s the easiest task of the day. Even if it’s the Golden Deer and Byleth has to skip over a fake entry every five seconds. But Balthus. <em>Balthus</em>.</p><p>“Claude von Reigan. Wait, von Riegan? Of the Alliance?”</p><p>Claude grimaces.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s me. But listen, don’t treat me any diff—”</p><p>“Man, I wanted to bang your mom so bad when I was a kid,” Balthus laughs.</p><p>The room has a moment of silence. Claude, for the first time that Byleth has known him, is speechless. He just stares at Balthus with his mouth agape. The noise starts all at once. Ignatz starts coughing with a severity usually reserved for asthma attacks. Lorenz and Lysithea both start yelling about impropriety. Leonie just laughs in disbelief. Raphael doesn’t look to have heard over the sound of him crunching away at his bag of chips and is looking around with his permanent half-smile. Marianne looks like she wants to evaporate.</p><p>“Baltie!” Hilda exclaims. “You can’t say things like that!”</p><p>Claude turns to her.</p><p>“You know this guy?”</p><p>She crosses her arms.</p><p>“I did,” she answers. “But the Baltie I knew would never say something like that. Really, what would my brother say?”</p><p>Balthus laughs.</p><p>“He’d agree.”</p><p>Hilda is even more scandalized. Byleth sighs.</p><p>“I’m going to call my brother and tell him you said that!” she announces. “In front of me! His darling little sister. Really, what is wrong with you?”</p><p>“Hey now,” Balthus says. His smile looks desperate. “There’s no need to bring Holst in to this, alright?”</p><p>“I think there might be.”</p><p>Her phone’s always in her hand and Byleth has no idea if her frenetic tapping is her following through on her threat or just her run-of-the-mill tapping. Balthus seems to not want to take any chances.</p><p>“Come on, Hilda, it was just, like, locker room talk,” he explain. “You can’t go blabbing about it. It’s sacred. Like measuring dicks, or something. Besides, we said that about everybody.”</p><p>“Do you think that’s better?” Hilda exclaims at the same time as Byleth asks, “measuring dicks is sacred?”</p><p>Balthus seems to find Byleth’s question the more pressing one.</p><p>“Yeah, of course. Don’t tell me you went around telling everybody the results, did you?”</p><p>Byleth tents his fingers in front of his face. “I can honestly say that I’ve never measured my penis.”</p><p>Balthus looks like he’s been shot.</p><p>“How’s that? It’s a rite of passage. Back me up, guys,” he says.</p><p>He turns back to the class. Claude, for his part, seems to have mostly recovered. When Byleth turns to face him, all he offers is a sheepish shrug.</p><p>“He’s got a point, Teach.”</p><p>Next is Ignatz. He’s fluorescent red.</p><p>“I—I’m not going to—this is so wildly improper—”</p><p>“Aw, don’t be shy, Iggy,” Raphael says. Shouts. He’s a loud man. “It’s perfectly normal to compare. You know, you’d think because he’s so tiny, everything would be built to scale, but really—”</p><p>“Raphael!” Ignatz yells. “Stop talking!”</p><p>He’s blushing hard enough that Byleth can feel the heat of his face all the way behind his desk. It’s very impressive. Lorenz stands up.</p><p>“I, for one, won’t stand for such discussion. Communications course or no,” he declares indignantly.</p><p>Lysithea’s got her face buried between in her hands. She finally peeks between her fingers.</p><p>“You know, I never thought I’d say it, but I’m with Lorenz on this one.”</p><p>Hilda’s giving Ignatz an appraising look.</p><p>“Of course,” she says distractedly.</p><p>“Really?” Claude asks.</p><p>“You can’t say you’re not curious,” she prods.</p><p>Claude rolls his eyes. He does shift in his seat to match Hilda’s gaze, though.</p><p>Lorenz makes a disgusted noise.</p><p>“Really? Have you no shame?”</p><p>Claude turns his focus.</p><p>“Come on, man, there’s nothing to be upset about. No matter the size, I’m sure yours works just fine.”</p><p>Lorenz look murderous.</p><p>“Are you implying that I—that it’s possible—” he fumes. “I am the paragon of physical perfection! In every way.”</p><p>Marianne chimes in from the corner of the room.</p><p>“I thought you said you hadn’t measured…”</p><p>Lorenz storms from the room in lieu of answering. Claude rolls his eyes again. He does, however, stand up with an aggrieved sigh.</p><p>“I’d better apologize,” he says. “You know how sensitive he can be.”</p><p>“You do that,” Hilda says. She stands up as well. “As a matter of fact, Ignatz and I should join you.”</p><p>“What? Why me?”</p><p>Claude meets her eyes. Byleth is reminded vividly of the documentary he’d watched last night about demonic beasts stalking their prey.</p><p>“Hilda has a point. It’d be better if the three of us went together. Actually,” he says suddenly, “Raphael should come, too.”</p><p>Hilda tilts her head. “You might have a point. Your place, right? The mattress is bigger.”</p><p>“Of course, my dear,” Claude says with an exaggerated bow. “Now let’s get out of here. You two,” he points at Ignatz and Raphael, “come with us. Bring your stuff.”</p><p>“But class is still in session,” Ignatz argues.</p><p>Even Byleth can see it’s only a token opposition. That falls away when Hilda pouts.</p><p>“Oh, come on,” she says. “Wouldn’t you rather come with us and help strengthen the bonds between classmates?”</p><p>“Hilda, you’re so smart,” Raphael says.</p><p>He stands with one hand on his bag and the other wrapped around Ignatz’s arm. Ignatz doesn’t even pretend at being dissatisfied with the rough treatment. In no time at all the class is halved. For his part, Balthus is just staring dumbstruck at the closed door.</p><p>“Did what I think just happen actually happen?” he asks.</p><p>Byleth nods.</p><p>“The sex thing?” he clarifies. “If so, then yes, that did just happen. It’s not that rare.”</p><p>Balthus turns to face him.</p><p>“’Not that rare’?” he asks. “You’re telling me little Hilda and her… boyfriend are swingers?”</p><p>Byleth tilts his head.</p><p>“I’m not sure if that’s the term they prefer, but yes. It’s a relatively common occurrence.”</p><p>Balthus turns back to face the class. Of those left, Marianne is feeding salad greens into her purse, Lysithea is furiously typing at her laptop, and Leonie is looking longingly at the door.</p><p>“Who here hasn’t had sex with Hilda and Claude?” he asks.</p><p>Behind him, Byleth raises his hand. He’s alone in the motion.</p><p>“No shit,” Balthus says under his breath.</p><p>He looks to be affronted by the knowledge. Bylth puts his hand down and closes his lesson plan.</p><p>“Class is dismissed for the day. Leonie, when you see Hilda and Claude, please you tell them to give me another essay on the ethical implications of disrupting class in order to engage in intercourse.”</p><p>“They didn’t disrupt class this time,” Leonie says. “That was all tall, strong, and stupid over here.”</p><p>Byleth nods.</p><p>“Fair enough, but I’m sure you can reach them in the parking lot before they leave if you go now instead of arguing over who should fairly take the blame.”</p><p>Leonie nods. Then, she’s off. Marianne’s purse makes a distinct chattering sound. She waits long enough to shush whatever it is before she’s leaving, too. Lysithea groans, but she packs up her laptop quickly enough.</p><p>“I’m beginning to get very tired of having to skip class because of their antics, professor,” she says. “I’m here to learn, after all.”</p><p>“I apologize,” Byleth acknowledges. “But along that same vein: in your last extra-credit paper, you incorrectly cited the Crest of Ernest as having been lost to history. I did, of course, have to deduct points.”</p><p>“But the Church of Seiros says—” she begins with the faint stirrings of outrage.</p><p>“I’m aware of what the Church says, Lysithea. However, the paper was supposed to be on the contemporary study and discovery of crests, and a strain of Ernest was recently found in a merchant family based out of Archanea. The rest of the paper was extraordinarily written, though. I have to commend the effort.”</p><p>Lysithea blushes.</p><p>“I suppose I’ll have to consider your soft spot for heresy for the next assignment.”</p><p>Byleth smiles.</p><p>“I suppose you will.”</p><p>Lysithea leaves. It leaves him and Balthus.</p><p>“Are you alright?” Byleth asks.</p><p>If he’s reading the vaguely nauseated look on Balthus’ face correctly, it’s the right question to ask. Balthus falls heavily into a chair.</p><p>“You know, I bandaged up her scraped knees way back in kindergarten. And now she’s out here getting twice as much play as I ever did. Makes me feel ashamed.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>Byleth begins to think. Nothing good has ever come from that, in his experience. In fact, it most often precedes his worst decisions. He’d been thinking before he’d accepted a teaching position here under recommendation of the university president, and look how that turned out.</p><p>“Balthus, I have to admit to some curiosity,” Byleth says. “Is it really as normal as you say to measure your penis?”</p><p>Balthus is still looking away.</p><p>“Yeah, but you gotta stop saying penis. Try saying dick. It’s easier on the ears.”</p><p>“I appreciate the advice. In that, case, do you think it’s strange to have not had the experience of measuring my dick?”</p><p>“A bit,” Balthus admits.</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>Byleth stands up. He moves from behind his desk to stand in front; he needs to lean back against something. He undoes his pants. Finally, Balthus turns around and sees Byleth standing with his soft dick hanging from the top of his slacks.</p><p>“Woah, buddy!” Balthus exclaims. He averts his eyes. “What are you doing?”</p><p>Byleth tilts his head.</p><p>“I’m measuring my pen—my dick,” he says. “Isn’t that obvious?”</p><p>“With me in the room? You’ve got some balls on you. And not the obvious ones.”</p><p>He snorts at his own joke.</p><p>“I thought that was part of the process,” Byleth says. “You and Holst, Ignatz and Raphael.”</p><p>“It’s usually your friend, or something.”</p><p>“Are we not friends?”</p><p>“That’s the saddest question I’ve ever heard in my life.”</p><p>Byleth hadn’t thought it was particularly sad, but Balthus is no longer avoiding looking in his direction. Now, though, Byleth can’t help but feel slightly pathetic.</p><p>“This doesn’t feel like a particularly formative experience,” he says.</p><p>Balthus nods. There’s something of a smirk on his face.</p><p>“I can tell. You gotta be boned up for it.”</p><p>“’Boned up’?”</p><p>“Dude, were you raised on the Goddess Star? Bone up? Pitch a tent? Pop a stiffy? None of this ringing a bell for you?”</p><p>Byleth furrows his eyebrows.</p><p>“I need to… get an erection?” he asks.</p><p>“This is the most awkward interaction I’ve ever been a part of and I just told a dude I wanted to fuck his mom.”</p><p>Byleth is vaguely offended.</p><p>“This is all very new to me,” he says. “None of this is particularly intuitive.”</p><p>Balthus laughs.</p><p>“It should be. You’re doing it all wrong.”</p><p>“I just think it’s kind of pointless. What’s so exciting about measuring my dick?”</p><p>“It’s about your male pride!” Balthus exclaims. “Being able to compare your manhood!”</p><p>“I’m beginning to think you have some very unhealthy thoughts about your masculinity as it relates to your genitals. Also, am I to believe there’s something exhilarating about having a larger dick than other people?”</p><p>Balthus brings a hand to his chin.</p><p>“You may be right on that first part,” he admits. “But I’m going to ignore that and focus on the second part; there’s absolutely something exhilarating about having a larger dick than other people.” He looks at Byleth’s dick. “You wouldn’t understand.”</p><p>“Wait, so there’s nothing exciting about the measuring? It’s all in the knowing?”</p><p>“Got that right, pal.”</p><p>Byleth begins the process of tucking himself back into his pants.</p><p>“That was a waste of time, then,” he says. “I already know how big my dick is.”</p><p>“I thought you never measured it.”</p><p>Byleth zips his pants up.</p><p>“I haven’t. I don’t need to. I know how big everything around me is at all times.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” Balthus says.</p><p>Byleth sighs.</p><p>“You’re 1.98 meters tall, I’m 1.75 meters tall, The door is 2.03 meters high, my desk is 1.22 meters across, and my penis is, when ‘boned up,’ 21 centimeters.”</p><p>“Twenty-one? Bull. Shit. I've seen twenty-one. I'd know it.”</p><p>Byleth brushes his hands across the front of his pants.</p><p>“Was I wrong about anything else?” he asks.</p><p>“Yeah, you were. I’m two meters exactly.”</p><p>“You’re counting your hair, and that’s cheating.”</p><p>“Damn.”</p><p>Balthus is looking at the ground. Byleth can admit to feeling a bit put out about how poorly this had gone. He was hoping for some transformative experience to tie him to the world of men all across the world. Instead, all he got was the need to go wash his hands. Heartbreaking. He’s walking past Balthus when one of Balthus’ hands reaches out to stop him. It grips his bicep and squeezes.</p><p>“Show me,” Balthus orders.</p><p>He’s still looking at the ground.</p><p>“I’m sorry?” Byleth asks.</p><p>“I said show me,” Balthus says. He finally meets Byleth’s eyes. His gaze is frighteningly intense. “There’s no fucking way you’ve got twenty-one centimeters.”</p><p>“Oh,” Byleth says. “You’re scared I have a bigger dick. Don’t worry, it doesn’t mean anything. There’s no statistically significant correlation between testosterone levels and penis size in adults. With a scientific basis, your concern is totally irrational.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” Balthus says. He releases Byleth’s arm and starts pulling at his own belt. “I saw that dick, and there’s no way it’s twenty-fucking-one centimeters.”</p><p>Byleth looks to where Balthus is struggling with his pants.</p><p>“There’s a large size difference between flaccid and erect, I admit, but it’s true.”</p><p>Balthus seems entirely deaf to whatever Byleth’s saying right now. He finally manages to get his pants open and pull his dick out, though, and brings his attention back to Byleth.</p><p>“How you like that?” he asks.</p><p>He sounds both smug and slightly nervous. Byleth has to admit that, even to his untrained eye, it’s a very nice dick. Uniform girth and color, good vascularity, appreciable length: whatever metric dicks are scored on, Byleth is very sure Balthus is doing well for himself.</p><p>“14.7 centimeters,” Byleth says. He looks up to meet Balthus’ eyes. “Is that what you wanted?”</p><p>“No, get your cock out,” Balthus says. “Let me see.”</p><p>Byleth sighs. He complies, though. It’s a fool’s errand to undo all his work putting his dick back into his pants by taking it right back out, but he’s still holding out hope for an experience worth all the buildup. When he finishes, though, he’s left with two men just staring at each other with their soft dicks hanging out of their pants. This isn’t the most exciting occurrence of his life.</p><p>“What now?” he asks.</p><p>Balthus starts pulling at his own dick.</p><p>“Now you need to get hard,” Balthus says. “But don’t make it weird. That’s rule number one.”</p><p>Byleth, impossibly, feels his expression get even more flat.</p><p>“Is this not already weird?” he asks.</p><p>Balthus laughs. It sounds a little strained.</p><p>“Got me there, I guess,” he admits. “Listen, promise to keep this to yourself?”</p><p>“I can’t think of anybody in the world I would tell this to.”</p><p>“There’s nothing weird about two bros helping each other get wood. Even if you don’t swing that way.”</p><p>“I didn’t say there was,” Byleth says.</p><p>He thinks he knows where this is going. Balthus is no closer to being hard than he was when he started his, frankly painful-looking, tugging.</p><p>“This isn’t a dating thing,” he says. “I’m not interested in dudes. Just want to make myself clear, you know? This isn’t anything past some guys conducting an experiment. Not like I have anything against that sort of thing, or anything, but it’s not for me. Not at all. Honestly, I think it’s kind of gross. For me, personally.”</p><p>“Balthus, have you ever heard of reaction-formation?” Balthus looks at Byleth blankly. “Never mind. Is all of this a preface to you asking me to masturbate you?”</p><p>“Goddess, stop using those words,” Balthus begs. “But yeah. That’s the idea. Jack me off and I’ll return the favor. Then we’ll see who’s really bigger.”</p><p>Byleth has to admit to having some curiosity at what happens after that, but he’s got the distinct feeling that Balthus is purposefully ignoring it. Fair enough. He moves one of his hands, hanging limply by his side, to hover over Balthus’, still working away.</p><p>“You need to move your hand,” he says.</p><p>His voice sounds strange.</p><p>“Room enough for two,” he says. He laughs at his own joke and then moves his hand anyways. “Just kidding. Be my guest.”</p><p>Byleth wraps his hand around Balthus dick. His first thought is that it’s much warmer than he thought it’d be. It’s a strange sensation, he has to admit. He gives an experimental tug.</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Balthus says. He settles his legs a bit further apart and lock his knees to give Byleth easier access. For somebody who hates this sort of thing, Byleth thinks, he certainly knows what he’s doing. “Little harder.”</p><p>Byleth complies. It’s much easier than the theory of it had been in his head. He’s got no small amount of natural talent in the field. Maybe he would have been better served in getting a PhD in handjobs instead of theology. It probably wouldn’t have condemned him to teaching communication, that’s for sure. Although that would mean he never would have needed a TA, met Balthus, and discovered his hidden skill. Maybe Rhea had been right: the Goddess does work in mysterious ways.</p><p>“Alright,” Balthus says. He sounds slightly winded, which Byleth finds offensive. He wasn’t doing any of the work. “Your turn.”</p><p>“Okay,” Byleth says. “I could just tell you exactly how big it is right now.”</p><p>“Not a chance,” Balthus says. “I need to see it with my own two eyes. Am I just supposed to believe whatever comes out of your mouth?”</p><p>“I am a professor,” Byleth says. “Most students here do.”</p><p>“I’m not most students.”</p><p>Byleth nods. That, at least, they can agree on. He shifts his stance to mirror Balthus’. His ability as a student aside, Balthus is seems to be something of an expert at receiving subpar handjobs. At this, at least, Byleth can cede his expertise.</p><p>And subpar it is. Balthus treats Byleth’s dick like he’d treated his own. Which is, in a word, horribly. His grip is too tight, his strokes too firm, and his rhythm nonexistent. Byleth feels more like he’s been subjected to a particularly inefficient castration than anything else.</p><p>“Stop that,” Byleth says.</p><p>“Getting close?” Balthus asks. “I have that effect.”</p><p>“I am nowhere near close. I’ve had better penile stimulation from the inside seam of my underwear.”</p><p>It is, admittedly, mean. But Byleth is, admittedly, in pain. He still doesn’t think it’s cause for Balthus to shrink away from him like he’d hit him. No, like something worse than a hit; Looking at the body before him, Byleth is positive a hit from him wouldn’t do anything.</p><p>“Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you,” Balthus says. He sounds like he’s sulking. “I was trying my best.”</p><p>“That was your best?”</p><p>“I feel like I flunked a test in high school,” Balthus says. “Stop using the teacher voice.”</p><p>Byleth nods.</p><p>“I apologize. It’s second nature at this point.”</p><p>Balthus physically shakes off his bad mood.</p><p>“Alright so how about you tell me what I was doing wrong and we try again?” he offers.</p><p>Byleth hesitates. He looks at the pronounced muscles in Balthus’ forearm, the veins tracing up his arm. He thinks of that hand on his dick again and gets impossibly softer. He’s now the consistency of wet clay.</p><p>“I don’t think you have the knack for it,” Byleth admits. “You’re too strong.”</p><p>Balthus flexes and smiles.</p><p>“Nicest way anybody’s ever turned me down.”</p><p>Byleth looks at the pronounced muscles in Balthus’ forearm, the veins tracing up his arm. He gets an entirely different feeling.</p><p>“Can you,” Byleth begins. He clears his throat. “Can you flex some more? Perhaps take off your shirt.”</p><p>Understanding blooms on Balthus’ face.</p><p>“I see what’s going on,” he says. “You pretended I don’t know how to jerk it so you could look at some more of this prime Alliance beef, didn’t you? You don’t have make excuses for it, you could have just asked.”</p><p>It’s so far from the truth that Byleth has his mouth open to disagree before Balthus has even finished speaking. He reconsiders. In his experience, sometimes it’s best to let other people come up with excuses for you.</p><p>“Sure,” he says. “Can I please see your chest now?”</p><p>Balthus laughs. He pulls his shirt off with an easy motion and sets off on his journey of bodybuilding poses. Some of them are, Byleth recognizes, completely made up on the spot. He supposes that when you’re as built as Balthus is, anything you do is going to show off muscle groups Byleth only knew existed in theory.</p><p>Once Byleth has a hand on himself, it’s really just matter of time until he’s ‘boned up.’ It feels very good, and the images playing out before him in real-time make it feel even better. Still, he manages to stop before he defeats the purpose of the venture.</p><p>He looks down to Balthus’ own dick. Though it had started flagging during the ill-fated return-handjob, the exhibitionism has got him back in peak condition. As he looks, Byleth thinks he might actually be harder than ever before. He remembers Balthus inviting him to watch him workout. It certainly puts it in perspective.</p><p>“Are you satisfied?” Byleth asks.</p><p>Balthus stops flexing to look down at Byleth’s own dick.</p><p>“Holy shit,” he says. “Holy. Shit.”</p><p>It makes Byleth feel bashful.</p><p>“If you’re ready?” he asks.</p><p>Balthus shakes his head. He reaches out to touch it. Byleth winces in anticipation, but it’s not bad. Just a light brush of fingers.</p><p>“Maybe you weren’t lying. Goddess-damned, you might even be as big as Holst.”</p><p>“You and Holst have the exact same size dick?” Byleth asks.</p><p>“What? No, Holst has me beat by a centimeter,” Balthus says. He speaks with the air of a man admitting to a cardinal sin. “Twenty-one. Just like him. That’s two men now bigger than me. It doesn’t hurt any less this time around.”</p><p>“Balthus,” Byleth says. “Our penises are the exact same length.”</p><p>“But they look…”</p><p>“It’s perspective. In addition, your dick curves slightly downward. If it wasn’t completely straight at the time of measurement, you didn’t get the truest number.”</p><p>“That can’t be right.”</p><p>Hope colors his voice. This is bizarre. He considers lying to him, but he doesn’t think that will do anything to dispel him of his bizarre complex.</p><p>“I’m telling you that they’re the exact same size,” Byleth says. “I’m never wrong about measurements. Ever.”</p><p>Balthus picks him and squeezes him into a hug. It presses their dicks firmly against each other. Balthus’ abs flex with every move. Oh, Goddess. Oh, fuck.</p><p>“You don’t have any idea what this means to me,” Balthus says. “Seriously, man, this is life-changing. It’s just the three of us against the world! You, me, and Holst: giant-cock amigos, fighting the good fight. The twenty-one and over club. Hung buds. Hell yeah!”</p><p>Byleth can’t even tell him how stupid he sounds because Balthus is punctuating every word with a twist. It’s rubbing their dicks together while he drags them across his abs. Fucking fuck. Shit. Fuck</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>“Um,” Byleth says very intelligently and then cums so hard he loses control of his body.</p><p>He regains consciousness at some indeterminable point in the future. It could be a week, a century, a millennium. Like twenty seconds. Balthus is standing very still, and both of them are feeling very sticky.</p><p>Byleth has, unfortunately, made this weird.</p><p>“I am very sorry,” Byleth says. He sounds very remorseful to his own ears. He hopes it translates. “It was the, uh, friction. I didn’t know that was going to happen.”</p><p>“No problem, man,” Balthus says.</p><p>He doesn’t actually sound too put out by it. Admittedly, Balthus is so happy about his extra centimeter that Byleth could tell him it came at the cost of five years of his life and Balthus would just grin and say that everybody has to die sometime. Seriously, something is wrong with him.</p><p>“It happens,” Balthus continues.</p><p>“Ejaculating all over your friend’s stomach happens because you touched dicks happens?” Byleth asks.</p><p>Instead of answering, Balthus just turns red, which Byleth supposes is an answer all it’s own.</p><p>“No harm, no foul,” he finally says. “Just get me something to clean up with.”</p><p>Byleth nods.</p><p>“Would you like me to return the favor?” he asks first.</p><p>Balthus scoffs.</p><p>“No offense, pal, but I don’t think you could pick me up.”</p><p>Byleth wraps a hand around Balthus’ dick, flushed red and heavy, and gives it two pumps.</p><p>“I don’t need to,” he says.</p><p>Balthus groans.</p><p>“Fuck, dude, just like that.”</p><p>Byleth can do that. He’s something of an expert at following orders, especially ones as simple as ‘move your hand up and down.’ But more than a follower, he’s an innovator. He’s an ideas person. Creative in a way the Garreg Mach faculty have described as ‘upsetting’ and ‘freakishly intuitive.’</p><p>Byleth wonders how those words are going to be applied to his, as-of-now-existent, sex life. He lets go of Balthus’ dick and ignores the whine to run a hand through the cum painting his stomach. When he returns, the pumping turns into a slow glide.</p><p>Balthus makes a sound like he’s going to die. Byleth is not yet done with his innovating. He knows things about people, after all. And he’s begun to form a hypothesis about Balthus. There’s no time like the present to test it.</p><p>“Balthus,” Byleth asks. He’s trying for seductive and landing squarely in clinical. Hopefully that adds to the appeal. “Are you thinking about your dick right now?</p><p>Balthus’ eyes open from where they’d slid closed and he gives a satisfied smile.</p><p>“Course I am. Feels great.”</p><p>Byleth shakes his head and squeezes his hand tighter. Balthus’ eyes close again.</p><p>“Not like that,” he says. “You’re thinking about how big your dick is, aren’t you? It turns you on, knowing that you’re bigger than just about everybody you meet, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Balthus gasps. His eyes open and his hips start to jerk.</p><p>“Oh, hell yeah. Didn’t know you had the dirty talk in you. But fuck yeah, it does turn me on.”</p><p>Byleth speeds up the pace.</p><p>“It’s more than that. You’re thinking about other dicks, aren’t you. Just as big as yours?”</p><p>Balthus shakes his head.</p><p>“I’m not like that, I told you.”</p><p>His breathing is getting more and more desperate, though.</p><p>“You think about Holst’s dick when you jack off, don’t you? You think about how big it is. You want to touch it, I know you do.”</p><p>Balthus is shaking his head more emphatically, and he lets out a helpless whine. It’s like the sound from earlier, but turned up, more intense. Byleth ratchets up the intensity again. He’s going fast enough now that the room is filled with nothing but Balthus' helpless noises and the slick sounds of his hand.  It’s time to go all-in.</p><p>“You’ve been thinking about sucking it for a while now. And now you’re thinking about sucking mine. I'd let you try.”</p><p>Balthus cums with a sound that splits the difference between a shout and a sob. It’s interesting. It’s also prodigious. Byleth ends up covered with semen from the collar of his t-shirt to the hem.</p><p>He brings his other hand up and drags a finger through it. Balthus opens his eyes in time to see Byleth lick it off. He can’t say he’s familiar with the flavor. Unpleasant, but in a pleasant way. It’s certainly a unique flavor profile. He files it away while Balthus catches his breath.</p><p>“Listen,” Balthus says after he’s mostly stopped gulping air down. “About that stuff you were saying…”</p><p>Byleth gives him what he hopes is a comforting expression.</p><p>“Don’t worry, I meant it,” Byleth says. “I really would let you. I'll return the favor, too, but I probably won’t be very good at it.”</p><p>Balthus stares.</p><p>“I’m not gay.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>It’s really not Byleth’s place to say anything. In fact, prior to today, he wouldn’t have classified himself as an entity that desired sex. It was as if some omnipotent being with complete control over his life had come into existence and directed him to jack Balthus off for its own inscrutable purposes. It’s a very interesting feeling.</p><p>While Byleth debates the validity of free will, Balthus is just staring at the ground. It takes some time, but he finally meets Byleth’s gaze. There’s something like a challenge in them.</p><p>“Maybe I do think about those things when I’m jerking it,” he admits. “But that’s totally normal stuff to think about your bro.”</p><p>“Okay,” Byleth repeats.</p><p>He takes his shirt off and begins the process of wiping himself clean. He’s not going to feel good until he can get back home and get into the shower, but he’s not opposed to a stopgap measure so he doesn’t have to walk around coated in semen like he’s doing his best condom impression. When he finishes, he offers it to Balthus to do that same. He takes it and begins scrubbing his abs clean with religious fervor</p><p>“Did I cum on Holst when we were measuring dicks because they touched? Yes. Does that make me gay? Absolutely not. It’s a high-tension situation. It’s bound to happen. Of course it’s going to stay on my mind. He’s my best bro. You don’t even know the kind of bond we share. Best bros, dude. You can’t ever understand that.”</p><p>“I thought we were the giant-cock amigos?”</p><p>“That’s different! It’s a whole different bond.”</p><p>Byleth gets a spare shirt from the collection he keeps in one of his desk drawers. He’s kept extras handy every since Marianne had showed up with an injured Peregrine falcon and demanded he donate fabric to be made into bandages. He pulls it on.</p><p>“Would you like to defend your heterosexuality or go home and figure out blowjobs?” Byleth asks.</p><p>It’s an honest question. Balthus, however, blushes. Really, he can’t win.</p><p>“Whatever,” Balthus says. “Second one.”</p><p>“Okay,” Byleth says. “Do you want to follow me in your car?”</p><p>“Don’t have a car,” is the answer. “I run everywhere. Great for cardio.”</p><p>“I really can’t believe that people say I’m the weirdest person at Garreg Mach.”</p><p>“Honestly? Me neither.”</p><p>Byleth bundles his filthied shirt under one arm and leaves the classroom with Balthus hot on his tail. While he locks the door, he’s thinking about the most optimal way cover his teeth. Perhaps, he thinks, he’s just got to figure it out in the moment.</p>
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